A Mansion on Sand
by williz
Summary: Elizabeth POV. Missing scene from CotBP. Elizabeth Swann has just been proposed to, fallen from the fort parapet, and rescued then threatened by the infamous Captain Sparrow.


**A Mansion on Sand  
**

**By williz**

**Summary: **Elizabeth point of view. The missing scene from _Curse of the Black Pearl_ between Jack's escape at the docks and the night the _Black Pearl_ attacks Port Royal.

**Disclaimer: **Now we all know by now that I don't own any Disney characters, nor do I have any claim on any _Pirates of the Caribbean_ films or their characters. But GOD wouldn't it be nice?

* * *

**"All love that has not friendship for its base is like a **

**mansion built upon sand."**

In spite of her father's thick coat slung precariously over her shoulders, the coolness of the morning bit through the wet material of her shift and caused a shiver to cascade through her.

For the seemingly beautiful start to her day, the looming clouds creeping over the horizon towards Port Royal made the air stiff and moist. Elizabeth Swann pulled the coat tighter about her and stared frigidly at the spot where the illustrious Captain Jack Sparrow had just held her captive.

Pure, unadulterated panic had coursed through her the moment he swung his chained arms over her head and captured her in a vice-like and dangerous grip. The awe she had felt upon first realizing just exactly who he was disappeared. And gone was the girl who had once stood at the bow of the _HMS Dauntless_, singing her song of piracy. She was replaced by a young woman who could have faced certain death at the hands of a ruthless, infamous pirate in exchange for the man's freedom.

It was a sickening realization. Her father's hand came to rest upon her shoulder as James rushed off to order a search party for the fugitive Sparrow, a demonstration of the governor's worry for her, as well as his protectiveness.

She tensed the moment she felt the weight of his fingers pressed against her collarbone. Spinning on him, she glared with as much feminine ferocity as she could muster against the man who had raised her since her mother's death.

"And let that please be the end of your fashion advice!"

Not awarding him a defense, she overstepped a fallen wooden beam and stormed away from him, wishing more than anything that he had forced her to wear an abominable hat, rather than that damnable corset. The trends in London were less of a concern to her now than they had ever been, considering her brush with death just minutes before as a result of the "latest fashion".

She heard the clicking of his shoes as he hurried after her and she slowed her pace considerably, seeing the multitudes of merchants and other townspeople that were beginning to gather in the wake of the commotion and wishing to lessen the appearance of a conflict between their governor and his daughter. She frowned at them all, knowing word of the pirate's threat on the life of the governor's daughter was spreading like wild fire throughout their midst.

As if recognizing the impropriety of Elizabeth's appearance, Governor Swann hastened to her and tugged the coat to cover more of her front. "Come, dearest. There is a carriage waiting to take you straight home."

The worry in his gaze did little to warm her as she kept her lips shut tightly. To think she attempted to save the damnable pirate from a regrettable fate before he held her hostage.

_Bloody pirate_.

Holding her face in a steady scowl, she let her father guide her caringly down the cobblestone road, past the onlookers, a soldier at her other elbow to ensure no more harm came to her from the pirate yet to be found. She turned to send the young officer an equally daunting glower, recognizing that he and his peers had done nothing to prevent it from happening the first time.

Her father gathered her close to him, his arm over her shoulder. "Are you alright, Elizabeth?" he asked breathlessly, turning her towards the grandiose carriage resting along the backside of the florist shop.

She nodded minutely, leaving even deeper creases in the governor's concerned brow. The young woman realized she was probably making the situation even more troubling for her father with her lack of verbal responses, but she cared naught for his feelings at the moment. The entire day turned out horribly and she wanted nothing more than to disappear from the prying eyes of the townsmen and the shocked gasps of their busybody wives.

Upon their arrival at the carriage, newly promoted Commodore James Norrington intercepted the Swanns gracefully at a rapid pace. He halted directly beside Elizabeth and took her hand, his eyebrows slanted upwards in his anxiety for her prior situation. She was forced to pause, her hand on the frame of the carriage door, ready to hoist herself into her seat.

Forcing a small smile on her shivering, blue lips, Elizabeth looked to him, not able to keep her mind from screaming unladylike curses at him for stopping her journey home. The thought of sitting in warm bath water, then lying in her equally warm and comfortable four-poster bed was enticing her almost to madness.

"Elizabeth, I—are you hurt at all?" He didn't pause but for a moment, not allowing even a semblance of an answer past her lips. "I can assure you, my men are combing the streets of Port Royal to find the black-hearted brigand. We will see him in prison by day's end."

"Yes, thank you," she murmured politely, not caring to really even spare him a glance. She allowed him to help her into the carriage, hearing her father bark orders to the driver to hurry her home at once. She felt an uncomfortable tug in her chest and sighed heavily as she sat on the plush seat of her father's carriage. James had proposed…or at least, he had been in the process of proposing before her inconvenient plunge into the depths below the parapet at the fort.

"_You have become a fine woman, Elizabeth."_

She furrowed her brow. _Father…_

Leaning out of the window, she peered about and found her father speaking to James. "Father, what are you—?" she started.

"I have business to attend to here with the commodore, Elizabeth. Bernard will see you home," he said with an apologetic smile. "I will follow you soon." He eyed the driver severely and she was jerked back into her seat by the rapid movement of the horses pulling the very same carriage she had left her home in that morning.

Her mind wandered back to the commodore. She had definitely always known of his affection for her, especially as she had reached the age of eighteen. His attentions to her had been great, albeit very polite and respectful, even entirely aloof, as was his way. James Norrington had always been quiet and strong. She counted on him to protect her father, but more than that she knew he kept Port Royal in its confident, safe state that it was in now.

What with the _Interceptor_, the _Dauntless_, and the always manned fort, no enemy ship had dared grace the Port Royal shores with its presence since she, her father and James had arrived at the small island. For that, she respected him greatly. She couldn't deny his presence left her at ease, and she knew his proposal would be soon. With his coming promotion, she had realized it would be much sooner than she was prepared for. She had never actually spared the thought as to whether she would accept his offer or decline it. But of course, she would _have_ to accept it!

If she did not, she would destroy her father's faith in her and his hope for her future. She knew he expected her to marry James Norrington. Her life would not be changed at all from what it was now. She would have all the fineries she had now, all of the most beautiful fashions from London, corsets included if fate had any say in the matter. And her husband would most assuredly care for her greatly, if he did not love her.

Love.

A chill cascaded through her as the carriage passed a line of running officers, their red jackets clinging to their backs and their bayonets glinting in the afternoon sun. A cloud of dust drifted in their wake as they turned into another alleyway. She looked away, the fear from her near-death experience shooting through her limbs again. Reaching up, she shrugged her father's coat from her shoulders and let it fall behind her torso. Her lip quivered as she rounded her chest with her arms and hugged herself tightly. If she were to be honest with herself, the pirate's desperate attack on her was entirely less disturbing to her than the fall from the parapet. Truly, she believed the man hadn't meant to hurt her. More than frightened, she had to admit she was excited. It wasn't altogether pleasant, of course, for his flirtation disgusted her and she wanted nothing more than to slap him as hard as she could across his smudged, scarred face.

But what was most unsettling to the young woman—more than her near-deadly fall and more than her kidnapping by a ruthless pirate—was the highly interested look Jack Sparrow had given her when he found Will Turner's medallion beneath her bodice. He seemed shocked and immensely intrigued by her possession of the necklace. Why, she couldn't possibly know. She wanted to ask him: what was it to him? But bloody Norrington had once again intruded at a most inopportune time and she was now forced to ponder what importance the medallion held to one of the most well-known pirates of the Caribbean.

She pursed her lips. When she had first found Will Turner and he was lying beneath her on the deck of the _Dauntless_, Elizabeth had taken the medallion, fully aware of its meaning. The boy was a pirate. Surely the Crown would have no qualms in punishing piracy, even if he _was _just a boy. Already, she knew there was more to him than met the eye, and she had hid it from James behind her back, aware of the great dishonesty of her actions.

Reaching up to her neck, she pulled the shining piece of gold from beneath her bodice and lifted it closer to her face, running her thumb over it slowly and reverently. Just _where_ had Will obtained it? And _why_ did Jack Sparrow seem to know what it was?

Surely the ingenious Captain Jack Sparrow couldn't have known the young blacksmith's apprentice. Where and when would they have met? But then, how did he know…?

She shook her head, stuffing the medallion back into its hiding place, turning to peer back out of the carriage window. The carriage slowed to a halt and she heard Bernard's raspy voice calling out loudly. He seemed frustrated about something…surely whatever it was had to do with their pause in the journey home.

Ignoring the impropriety of peeking out of the window with half her torso hanging out, her bodice still quite damp, she pushed herself out and looked ahead.

A large pile of potato sacks filled with the vegetable was spilled over in their path, potatoes rolling every which way around the wheels of the selling cart off which they fell. Elizabeth huffed, watching the young woman scramble to pick up the potatoes as fast as she could.

Pulling herself back into the carriage, she sat down and folded her arms on the window, placing her chin atop them and sighing, her damp hair flopping messily over her cheek. As quickly as the woman was working to clear the pathway, it would take another few minutes before the carriage could pass by. Of course, if Bernard had climbed down to help the woman as any gentleman _would_ do…

She was forced to halt in her musings, for standing nearby in the shade of one of the shop overhangs was the lithe, strong form of Will Turner, still adorned in the passably neat brown coat and shined buckled shoes he wore to deliver James' promotional sword that very morning. Even from where she sat in the carriage, she saw the depth of his eyes as they roved over the mess in the middle of the street.

Elizabeth pulled back quickly, sitting straight against the back of the seat and swallowing. She wasn't entirely pleased with her childhood friend in lieu of his actions towards her that morning. _"Once more, Miss Swann…As always." _

She looked down to her lap and frowned, wringing her hands together. His obvious disregard of their once close relationship as children, and even as pre-teenagers, had hurt her. She understood his constant obsession with propriety, for as blacksmith apprentice, he couldn't afford the privilege of calling a well-born lady by her given name. But she expected to be exempt from that idiot rule of society. He had been her best friend as a child in this new place so different from the London atmosphere she had been born in. He had been her shelter…her comfort.

And all of a sudden, he was a mere acquaintance. She saw him once a month, if that, now. And only in passing, really. And as indifferent to him as she wished she could be, the reality of it was that she couldn't for herself to treat him ill.

As always, she saw more in him than the frightened boy. She saw through his kicked-dog looks and knew how he was when they were alone and thirteen years old. He was Will. And despite the fact that he had called her 'Miss Swann' even then, there were times when a bold 'Elizabeth' would squeak out, and she would be delighted beyond words.

She had been hoping this morning would be one of those times. But she was fooling herself, for her father glared over their shoulders to watch the friendly exchange, even scolding her gently when she brought up the day she spotted Will floating beside their ship, unconscious.

Her incessant curiosity getting the better of her, she leaned towards the window and peeked out, watching Will in the doorway. A small smile formed on his handsome features and he dashed toward the frazzled woman and leant down, effortlessly lifting one of the fallen sacks into his arms and hoisting it back on the cart.

As he moved to pick up some of the renegade potatoes lying in the dirt, he left her view. Without thinking, she thrust herself back out of the window to catch sight of him again. A smile began to grow on her lips as she recognized the kindness in him that she came into full acquaintance with when they were children.

Her damnable dresses would get caught on a bush as they ran through the woods and she would curse. And then a hand would gingerly pull her dress from the vegetation's grasp, leaving her new dress no worse for wear. She remembered a few certain occasions in which he would forget himself during their play swordfights and he would smack her stick cleanly out of her grasp to the sand beneath their improperly bare feet. His triumphant grin would disappear immediately and he would throw his own stick down atop hers, coming to her and setting his hands on her shoulders. He would gently check her face, hands, and arms for injuries. At the time, his concern made her frustrated, for she knew that if she had been a little boy, he would have proceeded to kick her down into the sand beside her sword and claim victory.

She thought back fondly on those times now. And many times throughout the years, she found her last thought before falling asleep at night fell upon the blacksmith's apprentice. As indecent as he would surely deem the idea, she wished vehemently that they could go back to that beach and swordfight again with their sticks.

Elizabeth knew he would most assuredly beat her now that he was a strong young man of twenty, especially since her father had once mentioned his training in swordplay. How accomplished he _was_ at it could be no more than a guess on her part.

Will and the potato woman had made quick work together, and soon the path was clear. The woman thanked Will graciously and received a smiling bow from the young man. Elizabeth frowned as she heard Bernard exchange a few heated words with the woman about her negligence, but upon the realization of the carriage's presence, Will spun to regard the driver and instead met Elizabeth's admiring gaze.

Her features crumpled into shock to match his own before she pouted her lips in a small smile. Now was not the moment to remember his words to her earlier that day. She had just witnessed the part of Will Turner that had always won her over: his innocent benevolence and quiet fortitude in what was right.

"Elizabeth," she heard him mutter just loud enough for it to reach her carriage. Her heart soared as she began to smile. She was slightly surprised by the fact that he hadn't smiled. Then the thought struck her. Of course, word had moved quickly through Port Royal…even faster than her own carriage had. He knew of her fall, and of her near-kidnapping—from a pirate, no less. He had always hated pirates but, true to her, he had also indulged in her games.

His feet brought him closer and she wished for him to call her Elizabeth again. It was most likely unhealthy for her to depend so fully on her friend's usage of her first name. But if she were to be honest with herself, he would always be her truest friend. And when he called her Elizabeth, she knew he counted on her the same. Now was obviously one of those times.

He opened his mouth to speak, concern dripping from his handsome eyes. But there was something else there…something that was always there. She never could figure out what it was, but his eyes would become so very dark and they would grow wide, almost as if he was lost. Lost to what, she had no idea, but she curiously felt just as strangely lost as he looked whenever he stared at her that way.

"Elizabeth, are you alright—?" he managed to get out as the carriage jumped forward, sending her slamming back into her seat again. She winced and, wide-eyed, pushed her head out of the window, turning back to see Will staring with his arm half raised. The lost look was there as he stared after her.

Incensed with Bernard, she thrust her arm up to hit the ceiling of the carriage, effectively stopping it so that she could speak with Will properly—perhaps he would call her Elizabeth again in his concern.

But she thought better of it and halted. Biting her lip, the governor's daughter lowered her hand back down to her lap in resignation. It was inappropriate to think of Will in such ways, despite that she just wished for his friendship again. Especially after the excitement of the day.

Elizabeth's feelings were purely friendly and platonic. But there was something deep in her chest that suggested the way she thought of him was far more complicated than that.

And she couldn't possibly put off her answer to James' proposal for too long. She respected him at least, and it was only fair for her to show him that respect and give him an answer in a timely fashion.

They pulled into the expansive mansion's long gravel driveway and stopped in front of the steps of her home. The manservant was at her door in a moment's time, helping her step precariously out of the carriage and safely on the ground.

"The governor requested Miss Swann straight to bed," Bernard told the manservant who bowed and guided the young woman into the large front door. Still with her father's coat around her shoulders, Elizabeth looked up to see her personal maid, Estrella, hurrying down the stairs towards her.

"Miss, I—I didn't expect you home so early," she rushed out as she reached the bottom step and hastened over to her mistress. "I—Why miss, you're all soaked!"

"Yes, Estrella…could you run a bath for me, please?"

Elizabeth grit her teeth as the slightly older maid continued to stare worriedly at her, the woman obviously wanting to know how her mistress happened to be so thoroughly soaked. News of her kidnapping must not have reached the mansion quite yet. She wasn't worried in the slightest, knowing it would reach them all soon enough, what with her father following closely behind.

"Estrella, please."

"I'm sorry, Miss!" The maid hurried up the stairs, one hand gripping the railing while the other held her skirts up to keep from tripping.

Elizabeth's heart was thumping madly. In only a few hours' time, she was proposed to, fell hundreds of feet off of the fort parapet, almost drowned, was saved by a well-known pirate captain then held captive by him, and saw her childhood playmate twice when she rarely saw him once every few months.

She followed slowly, shrugging the governor's jacket from her shoulders and holding it in her hand, easing up the stairs and holding the white, damp cloth of her chemise in order to keep from further embarrassing herself and falling down the stairs. She had already toppled from the parapet because of her fashion-sense; falling down the entryway stairs because she stepped on her chemise would just finish off the day.

Absently wondering whether Sparrow had been caught by James yet, she entered into her washroom and found Estrella pouring steaming water into the large tub. She turned, worried. "I'm sorry, Miss. I didn't know you'd be coming so soon. I wasn't ready with the bath water."

"Don't apologize, Estrella. It's not your fault," she replied automatically, not really paying much attention to the young woman.

"Thank you, Miss," she heard her whisper, continuing along with her work. Elizabeth's fingers shook in chill as she pulled at her damp skirts, something she hadn't been conscious of until now. Her mind had been so preoccupied since her fall that she hadn't the mind to think of how cold the water had been. With the incoming clouds, the air had been quite cool as well. Now more than anything, she wanted to seep into the bathwater and be left alone with her thoughts.

Her hand moved up to touch the medallion beneath her bodice again. Once her fingers felt the smooth gold against their tips, her entire body jolted in response. What if Estrella saw the medallion while she was undressing? Of _course_ she would see it. The questions surrounding the object were insurmountable, especially after Jack Sparrow's acknowledgment of it down at the docks after he'd rescued her. The last thing the young woman wanted was _more_ questions concerning the necklace.

Looking over at the corner, Elizabeth noticed her screen. Of course. She strode behind it and reached up to pull the ties, loosening her chemise and reaching down to pull the skirt up over her legs. Tugging the wet garment over her head and leaving herself completely bare, she felt the medallion clunk against the skin of her chest and gasped. It was warm from being pressed against her skin so long. She looked down and let a small smile leak onto her lips. After the response this small grinning skull produced with the infamous pirate captain who had threatened her earlier, Elizabeth couldn't help but wonder what response it would render with the young blacksmith she had stolen it from in the first place.

Would he be angry if he knew she had it? She inwardly scoffed. Of course he would be angry; she had stolen his medallion from him and never told him after eight years that she still had it. She wondered if he thought of the medallion and pondered over what become of it.

"The water's ready, Miss. Shall I help you undress?"

She jumped. "No! No thank you. Just a moment." Hurriedly pulling her hair over her shoulder, she unclasped the necklace from around her long, slim neck and set it on the small dressing table against the wall. She covered it with the hat hanging from a nearby rung. As long as she remembered to grab the medallion later, it would surely do for the time being.

Grabbing her thin, flowing robe from the nearest hook on the screen, she shrugged it on and tied it at her middle. As she came out, she saw that Estrella had left the room. She must have missed the sound of the maid shutting the door in her panic to hide the medallion.

The room was eerily silent now as she padded over the wood floors to the tub and let her robe slink off of her shoulders. Draping it over the chair beside the tub, Elizabeth raised her leg and stepped into the tub, letting her eyes slip shut in the deliciousness of the hot water sliding over her skin. Easing her other leg in, she bent her knees and submerged her body. It felt almost too relaxing to be more than a dream, she mused as she lifted her arms to perch on the sides of the tub and lean her head back.

Her thoughts wandered again to the proposal. What was she to say to James Norrington when he brought it up again? Would he come today to ask again? Or tomorrow? She thought him to be hesitant in the matters of women, and therefore guessed he would not be by until tomorrow or maybe some day after. She had to make a decision before he came back. Her eyes opened and she raised her head, absent mindedly dripping water from her fingers onto the tops of her knees poking out from the water. She almost smiled at the irony of her attempt to "make a decision", as if she wasn't sure of what it was already. Her acceptance of him wouldn't be absolutely horrible, she was sure.

But the throbbing in her chest continued, despite reassuring herself that Commodore James Norrington knew her and cared for her, most likely more than many of the other men on this beautiful island. She wondered if he perhaps knew her even better than Will Turner. She understood he had known her longer.

Truly, Will must have known her better than any man in her life, perhaps more than her father; all this even with the long spaces of time in their teen and adult life in which they hadn't seen each other.

His presence had left her comfortable enough to be herself, the tomboy she was when they fought with swords and climbed rocks and ran through the trees as children, adventuring through unknown caves for pirate treasure. Even her father had lost his patience with her "boyish, immature whims", he had called them. Knowing nothing of those _whims_, James Norrington had watched her blossom into a respectable young woman. But beneath all of that, and Elizabeth had to smirk to herself at this thought, she was still the tomboy, still the adventurer.

Her smirk died as she thought of Will again. Despite his knowledge of her true character, his infinite amount of propriety drove her mad every time she met him…even as a child. In the market when he had seen her watching him from her carriage window, he had dropped his walls of propriety, surely relieved she was alright after what he must have heard from others about her plight. He had called her Elizabeth. Not Miss Swann. He hadn't met her eyes then quickly looked down to his shoes. No, he looked straight into her soul and spoke her name in a long breath. And he was asking after her with his ever-present sincerity.

But Bernard had sped away, obviously not knowing of the conversation she was about to have with her old friend.

And at once, she regretted the absence of Will's conversation in her day. He had seemed so ready to speak with her blatantly, as if no one else was there and there was no chance of anyone overhearing his bold talk with a woman high above his station in life. His worry for her would have eaten away at his fear of sullying her reputation with her peers.

She wished she had hit the ceiling of the carriage to stop Bernard from continuing, so that she and Will could have spoken. "Elizabeth, are you alright—?" he had asked. She thought of what she would have said, trying to recreate the conversation they _would have_ had.

She'd have reassured him of her well-being. Perhaps she would quietly share with him that she might still be in shock from it all. And that the fall was still hazy, as she had passed out. And they would laugh together over how idiotic corsets were. He would comment on how she never _did_ love being confined by anything…or anyone.

She shut her eyes tightly again and turned her face into the marble of the tub, feeling the ache in her chest again. Why hadn't she spoken with him? Did he know of her near-engagement (and certain future engagement) with the commodore? The thought of him knowing what occurred just before her tumble off the parapet caused her great pain, oddly. Shaking her head, she continued their conversation in her head.

Sooner or later, she might reach out to take his work-hardened hand in her softer one. And he might let her. It did all but make her shiver in the still warm bathwater. She was sure no one would ever know her like Will did. Not even James when they were married.

Feeling restlessness begin to seep into her limbs, she sat up and splashed water over her face, then stood up, letting the water leak between the creases over her body before she stepped out onto the towel Estrella had set down for that distinct purpose. Picking up the other towel from the seat of the chair, she dried her body and pulled her robe back over her shoulders. As she tied it, Estrella opened the door and came in from Elizabeth's adjoining bedroom, her silky sleeping gown in hand.

"Shall I help you dress, Miss?"

"No, thank you. Just take care of the tub, please Estrella."

With a nod, the maid hurried to her charge and handed her the nightgown. Elizabeth took it behind the screen and changed, going to the hat on the table and putting it back on its hook. There sat the medallion, just as she had left it. Lifting it into her fingers, she turned it over, her eyes roving over its bumpy surface.

She had missed her chance to speak with Will in a clandestine fashion in which he wasn't lost in a sea of propriety, but perhaps if she invited him for a visit the next day, or the day after, she might get a conversation out of him yet.

He would surely be confused as to why she invited him, as was his way. Will would expect her father to be the harbinger of the note asking him to hasten to the Governor's mansion. Perhaps there was another sword order from her father. But no; he would find Elizabeth standing at the head of the stairs, and his visit would be primarily to talk with her.

Clasping the necklace about her neck again, she wondered whether he would be slightly upset with her for taking him from his work for such a superficial reason.

Would he find her conversation to be a superficial reason for visiting the mansion? _Miss Swann…_

Ignoring the rest of the thoughts shifting about in her mind, she hid the medallion under her bodice and walked out to where Estrella stood with a brush in hand. They walked together into Elizabeth's expansive room and Estrella brushed the waves of damp hair out. She watched as the ends of her hair coiled every time the brush moved through them, and then as her maid skillfully pulled a large portion of it up at the top of her head and clipped it there gently.

Smiling up at Estrella, she walked to her bed, ready to sleep the rest of the evening away, ready to wake up the next morning and face whatever came her way. She decided that perhaps inviting Will Turner over the next morning wasn't the best idea. Nor was inviting him the day after that. This thought in itself hurt the young woman. They really weren't from the same world anymore. And when she accepted Norrington's proposal, they would be even further separated.

She climbed beneath the sheets that Estrella pulled neatly back, and then found them replaced over her. "Shall I douse the light, Miss? You must be tired."

"No. I think I shall read for awhile." She needed to divert her thoughts to a fictionalized plot, some far-off story that had nothing to do with the Caribbean or England. Reaching over, she picked up the novel her father had brought back from his recent trip to Espagnola, _The Princess de Cleves_, a romantic novel about unrequited love. She opened the book to where her marker was and scoffed to herself. The French were often obsessed with romances and unrequited loves. But she supposed she wasn't one to tease the French, considering the piles of pirate books she had accumulated throughout her years in the Caribbean.

Her eyes drifted along the pages as she sat alone in her room. The flickering candlelight would be aiding her reading if her mind was on it. As it were, she was thinking about her future. How many pirate books would she be allowed to read in marriage to a man whose one goal in life was to obliterate all piracy in the Caribbean?

The door opened a half-hour later, revealing her overtly excited maid behind it. As she turned and shut it, Elizabeth peered through her eyelashes at the woman. She inwardly groaned. In that half-hour while Estrella was downstairs, the entire household staff must have been informed on the day's excitement. And now, of course, Estrella would do her best not to mention too much about it, for fear of the agitation it might cause in her charge.

Elizabeth went back to her book, forcing herself to read each word slowly, but she could not force herself to focus on it. She fidgeted as Estrella moved to slip the bedpan filled with hot coals under the covers at the foot of her bed.

"There you go, Miss. It was a difficult day for you, I'm sure."

Elizabeth looked up from her book and let a fleeting smile grace her lips, before her eyes dropped to the sheets beside her. _Yes, difficult… _"I suspected Commodore Norrington would propose, but I was still not entirely prepared for it."

Estrella paused in her movement closer to Elizabeth. "I meant your being threatened by that pirate. It sounds terrifying." The young woman caught her maid shivering as she reached over to further straighten the sheets. In actuality, Jack Sparrow had been nothing if not annoying. And in fact, he was entirely disappointing as well, nothing like the Captain Sparrow whose exploits she'd read of as a child.

"Oh. Yes." She paused, sending another small smile of agreement to Estrella. "Terrifying."

"But!" Estrella continued, hopefully none the wiser of Elizabeth's true feelings about the proposal and the pirate. "The Commodore proposed! Fancy that." Estrella met her eye and smiled politely, earning an appreciative smile from her charge. "That's a smart match, Miss, if it's not too bold to say."

Again, Elizabeth felt the dull ache in her chest. _That's a smart match. _True, Commodore Norrington would be a smart match for marriage. He _was_ a smart match. Her lips felt numb as she opened them to speak. "It is a smart match. He's a fine man." She stopped, her wrists weakly lowering the book onto her lap. "The sort any woman should dream of marrying."

She lifted her book again and gazed at the same page she had been pretending to read for the past five minutes at least. As her eyes roved, she caught the world "love" at least six different times, causing her to look away from it and over across the room at her changing screen. Did a smart match _ever_ include love? Could she learn to love James?

She looked back down at the book, focusing again on the words. _Love._

"That Will Turner…he's a fine man, too."

Elizabeth slowly looked up at her maid, surprised when she found the woman giving her an all-too-knowing smile. Shutting her mouth in a glaring pout, she let her know she had crossed the line with that assumption.

"That _is_ too bold." Will Turner was a fine man. What surprised her more than Estrella's boldness was the quickness of breath and steady beating of her heart that she felt as she realized she was thinking the same thing as her maid had suggested it.

"Begging your pardon, Miss. It was not my place."

Elizabeth kept her eyes trained on Estrella severely as the maid hurried out of the room and shut the door behind her. She supposed she was awfully harsh on the older woman, but the fact that she had been caught pondering her fate with Will Turner instead of with James Norrington had left her uneasy.

As she tried to concentrate on Princess de Cleves's plight, one hand unconsciously reached up and touched the chain of the necklace at her neck. Her eyes drifted from the book and stared in front of her, at nothing in particular.

Suddenly there was a gust of wind from her balcony and the flame at her bedside flickered, and then went completely out. She turned to look at the candle lamp, her eyes narrowed as she sat in the dark, her fingers still gripping onto the medallion with all the strength they could muster in the eerie silence of the night.

* * *

(A/N): Alright everyone. It's time. It's time to start bringing the magnificent saga that is _Pirates of the Caribbean_ back to its roots. Back to its canon. Let's do it some justice! Everyone who's in, say "AYE!" (This is where I should hear a chorus of 'AYE's.)

I would like to throw in a quick thank you again to miss **Jack E Sparrow** for helping me with the title and the starting quote. She's amazing, really.

Please read and review. I know this was probably slightly repetitive and dull, right? I apologize. I'll do better. :)

Thank you all!

-williz


End file.
